'THIS OLD, OLD LAND 
THAT MEN CALL NEW" 



THE RHYMED STORY 
OF WISCONSIN 

AND OTHER VERSES 



BY 



V 

John Nelson Davidson, A. M. 



MADISON, WIS. 

TRACY, GIBBS A CO. 

190I 



'^^ 



'6 



THE LIBRARY OF 


CONGRESS, 


Two Copies 


Received 


OCT. 25 


1901 


Copyright 
CLASS I I - 


ENTRY 


iCXo. No. 


COPY 





Copyrighted 1901 
By John Nelson Davidson. 



COffTENTS, 

PAGE. 

In Memoriam v 

Wisconsin vi 

' 'This Old, Old Land- That Men Call New" 1 

A Day in June 5 

Twice Are Wisconsin's Woods Aflame 6 

Downy -Stemmed Anemones 8 

Isle Wisconsin 9 

The Mississippi 11 

Cheq-u-am-e-gon Bay 13 

Wisconsin Song. 20 

The American Flag 35 

Sunrise on the Lake . . 27 

Two Rivers Song 28 

The German Mother in America 29 

She Tells of Scottish Margaret 33 

To the Silent Soldier 35 

Mere Verses 37 

A Summer Night by Our Inland Sea 89 

The Heroine's Eyes 39 

The Difference 41 

From "The Seven Against Thebes" 41 

From the First Book of the Odyssey 41 

From Baxter's "Saints' Rest" 43 

The Old Fairplay Meeting-House 43 

Twentieth Anniversary of Christian Endeavor 44 

Endeavor Consecration Hymn 46 

Funeral Hymn for the Aged 47 

To a Sister's Memory 47 

An August Morning by the Lake 48 

Hymn Sung at the Laying of a Corner-Stone 48 

Dedication Hymn 49 

Beyond 49 

Mother and Soldier Son 50 

To a Lakeside Forest 51 

Where the Child Does Not Grow Old 53 

Bible Hexameters 53 

On the Campus 54 

The Exile of '48 58 

At Btiffalo, 1901, September 6 60 

iii 



IN MEMORIAM. 

To hira who sleeps in mountain grave alone, 
Whose lips unMssed breathed out this mortal life, 

Whom now I know not nor have ever known, 
Who died afar from home and child and wife : — 

With her he wept not parting tears alone, 

But doubly mourning. For a babe, their own, 

In that last sleep that comes to all they laid 

Where falls the old church's westward peaceful shade. 

He toward the setting of the sun must lead 

His little comp'ny. Not mere covetous greed 

For gold possessed him as the outstretched plain 

He traversed, hoping for an honest gain. — 

To him, my father (of that untold host 

Prophetic of a nation's vast increase 
From inland prairies to Pacific's coast, 

Soldiers of peace who asked nor found release 
Till, duty done, they gained that distant shore ; 

Not allr for death and plague claimed many a life ; 
He, where the Rockies hear the storm- wind's roar, 

Fell under weight of the unequal strife 
With fierce disease in far-off summer days, 

And there they made his lone and unmarked grave) , 
To him this poor memorial I would raise. 

My father, faithful, loving, true and brave. 



WISCONSIN. 

Founded ill justice ia^qs oiir state ; 

flr\d as our foilr\tairis, full arid great, 

Have Vast, deep sources iT\ t]\e sea, 

So for our gift of liberty, 

For our true l^istory's r\oblest page, 

Read of a second pilgriir\age : — 

R Mayflo"Wer bore it toward tl\e West. 

Tl\e triuii\p]:\ ls;r\oiA^ : tY[e strife to ^rest 

Tl|ese lands of laKes fron\ slavery's sJrianqe. 

H.r|d learn M.anassel\ Cutler's faine ; 

Read tliat proplr^etic Ordinance 

W]:\ose passage inarKed a lA^orld's advance. 

Heolian inusic breatl^es fron\ fragrant pines ; 
Tliere's treasure t|idden in our deep, darK rnines; 
T]:\ere's double beauty in tY\Q stars tlr^at gleain 
Wt|en nigllt sleeps deeper and tl\e lo^ lA^inds drearn ; 
Hgain tl^ey s]:\ine in tiA^ice a tt^oUsand lak;es 
Ttiat inultiply our sUns iA;l\en nqorning 'WaKes. 



This Old, 014 Land That Men Call Neta.' 



Wisconsin, thou hast many a tongue ; 
In each hath glorious praise been sung. 
The sons of England tell her glory, 
Their kinsmen dwell on Scotland's story; 
And Celtic speech of rugged Wales, 
Of Irish mirth and Highland tales. 
Hath sung the praise of saint and sage ; 
Read all on minstrel-written page. 
Tear-marred with drops that fell like rain 
And told of heroes' joy and pain. 
These tongues are thine ; they count thy days, 
They speak, Wisconsin fair, thy praise. 



II. 



Nor these alone ! Where Alpine snow 
Makes white the skies, where glaciers glow 
With promise of the mountain stream ; 
Where lakes are fair as painter's dream : 
There music beareth varied speech. 
But truth and love are heard in each. 
And all the words of every tongue 
'Mid mountains heard, o'er waters flung; 
The speech that praised those men of old 
Who bought their land but not with gold : 
These tongues are thine ; they count thy days, 
Our own loved state ! they speak thy praise. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

III. 

Those who have sung "Die Wacht am Rhein" 
On German hills where grows the vine ; 
Those who have dwelt where upper air 
Bears sea-flung foam and, dwelling there, 
Have felt secure 'gainst wave and tide ; 
Those who have Northern seas defied; 
Those who on plains of sunny France 
Have mingled in the harvest dance ; 
Those who Bohemia's story know, 
Or trodden Poland's fields of snow : 
Their tongues are thine ; they count thy days, 
Our chosen state ! they speak thy praise. 

IV. 

And many a tale in varied speech 
Now dwells upon the lips of each. 
The Frenchman tells of Nicholet, 
Of Radisson and Groseilliers, 
And one, a martyr bold and brave, 
Who in our forests found a grave, 
Menard of pure and reverenced name. 
To win the lost for Christ he came. 
No others of those early days 
Have better right to claim our praise. 
They trod the unknown wilderness 
Or rode the waves 'mid storm and stress. 

V. 
Then came the days of lengthened strife, 
Of bullet -whistle, gleam of knife. 
And horror of barbaric fight. 
In that long war's tumultuous night 
Gaul strove with Outagamie bold. 
His hard -won victory scarce was told 
When mightier enemies appeared, 
Whom Gaul held great and Indian feared, — 
The Briton and his colonist. 
In cold and heat, in sun and mist 
They measured in their triumphs great 
Those realms where now is many a state. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

VI. 
Then from the Arctic's frozen seas 
To gulf shores low, in tropic ease, 
The flag of Britain held domain ; 
An empire won as war's rich gain. 
Then heard these woods our English tongue. 
"God save the king!" new voices sung . 
Where Radisson had made his way 
Came Carver in this later day. 
Adventurous hero ! Well he told 
No fables of a land of gold. 
"Here nations great shall rise," he said, 
"Where Indian foes have fought and bled." 

VII. 

Montcalm and Wolfe ! Their mortal fray 
This fair land freed from Bourbon sway. 
And in that struggle were set free 
Two lands that now seek Hberty, ^ 
Wronged Cuba and the Philippines. 
By one of those unpardoned sins 
That kings commit these lands to Spain 
Again were given. A prince insane 
In later years and never wise 
Saw not great things with his dull eyes. 
Recked not what nobler men had done, 
Ignobly gave what they had won. 

VIII. 

Small wit or virtue in a king 

Wakes loudest praise ; court poets sing 

And bishops prate as if this man 

Had wise accord with God's own plan. 

Misled by solemn churchmen's cant 

And Tory statesmen's silly rant 

The stupid George felt called to rule. 

Now had it been some parish school 

Wherein he exercised his sway. 

Heard boys recite and watched them play, 

None need have mourned ; nor empire great 

Bemoaned his folly and its fate. 



I Written in Wisconsin's semi-centennial year, — the year of the Spanish war. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

IX. 

But foolish hands on empire laid 

In royal weakness, havoc made. 

Those who were friends now foes become. 

Again for war the hateful drum 

Beat wide alarm ; and George then learned 

That men who Charles and James had spurned 

Held nations greater than their kings 

And crowns they ranked with worthless things. 

Nor were those voices heard alone 

On ocean' s westward side ; the throne 

111 pleased heard Burke ; and Chatham great 

Deplored the rending of the state. 

X. 

Yet that vast empire rent apart 
Gave double place for mind and heart 
Of Norman, Saxon, Teuton, Celt. 
And so whatever men once felt 
Of hate or anger now we know 
The Motherland as friend not foe. 
Yet are we glad and count it gain 
That in the allotment of domain 
This realm we proudly call our own 
To five-fold statehood grandly grown 
By our wise statesmen's claim was won, 
A claim made just by deeds well done. 

XI. 

Deeds that recall an honored name, — 

George Rogers Clark, — whose splendid fame 

Awakes our pride but calls for tears 

That mourn his fault of later years. 

Nor should our record fail to say 

In tale of that adventurous day 

That old Virginia sent him forth. 

So this fair region of the North 

The Old Dominion once called hers ; 

Then but a land of fish and furs ; 

Of Indian huts, of ill- wrought mines. 

Of traders wandering 'mid the pines. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 5 

Let our song change its tone ; A 

Rest we from our lengthened story, Day 

Tales of battle, grim and gory ; in 

Let us go where alone June. 

Each in the morn, or the eve, or the noon 
May delight in the glory of this day in June ; 
May see what the hunter of the old time saw, 
May see the summer's promise free from fault or flaw. 

Delay, delay, 

Thou glorious day. 
Haste not, O radiant sun. 
To say, "My journey's done." 
Though the high stars shine 
In the eve's decline ; 
Though the far west glows 
With the colors of the rose. 
Not so much we long for these 
As for footsteps of the breeze 
On the trees new -crowned. 
On the silent, tender grasses that nestle on the ground 

Delay, delay, 
O glorious day. 
Night will hide the beauty of the new-made leaf, 
Night will hide the promise of the full-eared sheaf, 
Night will hide the candelabra of the fragrant pine, 
Night will darken arbored thickets where the wild grapes twine. 

Delay, delay, 

O leaved and blossomed day. 

In the night is heard 

Neither song of bird 

Nor the wild bee's hum. 
O dumb, dumb, dumb, 
Is the night compared with day ; 
Somber, somber, its array. 
Shine on, shine on, O hours of Ught. 
Away, away, ye shades of night. 
In the day we see the vesture of the white-clad birch ; 
Wild roses and the columbine reward our happy search ; 
We listen to the rustle of the maple's pendent seeds. 
And we see the wood-girt meadow where the white flock feeds. 
Haste not, haste not away, 
Unselfish, happy day ! 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

XII. 

And thus renewed the trader's day- 
Shines once again ; we walk his way. 
He saw the beauty of our June 
And knew deep forests where the noon 
Had feeble light ; and when the year 
Awoke from winter's sleep and fear 
He saw th' imperial robes put on 
That forests wear when frosts have gone ; 
Saw those yet richer that the days 
Of autumn, in chromatic maze, 
Emblazon on the palmate leaf, — 
Surpassing splendor all too brief ! 



Twice are Twice are Wisconsin's woods aflame. 

Wisconsin's First when the springtime's early gush 

Woods Of April rain has brought the flush 

Aflame, Of budding red to velvet leaves 

On ancient oaks, and all the trees, 
Kissed by the loving joyous breeze. 
Blush like a maid in faultless shame. 

Nor leaves alone fling back the light 
In glowing hues to gladdened eyes 
Awaiting Nature's sweet siu-prise 

The new-formed boughs in bronze or brown 
And tasseled blossoms form a crown 
Worthy those monarchs of renown 
The forest kings in splendor bright. 

The blossomed orchards call the bee ; 
Wild apples, harsh in knot and name 
Give pledge of fruit in lines of flame 
Writ fair on page of fragrant white. 
And, at the passing of the night. 
The heavy dews, in blaze of light. 
Greet welcome day, as shadows flee. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Then when the cricket's shrill-toned call 
Proclaims the time of ripened corn, 
Of lengthened eve and later morn ; 
When noontide shadows longer grow, 
And changeful winds swift journeys know, 
And streamlets creep with lessened flow ; 
When red haws ripen, walnuts fall, — 

Then wondrous flaraes in forests creep, 
A burning that doth not consume 
But gloweth bright as springtime's bloom. 
The maple hangs her banners out 
And mingles red (in careless rout) 
And gold, with elm leaves strewn about, 
Adrift from boughs where squirrels leap. 

Then at October's frosty call 
There drop, where deer once made a path 
And lynxes met their foes in wrath, 
The leaves that soon in autumn rain 
Shall fade in forest, field or plain 
And hide, with never thought of pain, 
The dreamless bed prepared for all. 

XIII. 

There let them sleep whose sturdy forms 
Confronted forests, seas and storms ; 
Faced foes unseen of precious life, — 
Disease and hurt and Indian knife. 
And with those men of older time. 
Forget not one whose name with rhyme ^ 
Hath slight accord ; our rocky slopes 
When rich with first of springtime's hopes 
He trod and found anemones, 
Those that his name now bear ; they please 
The favored dweller on the hills ; 
The devotee whom Nature thrills. 



I Thomas Nuttall. the botanist. Scientifically the flower is anemone patens, 
var. Nuitalliana. 



8 

Dotany' 

Stemmed 

Anemones. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Downy-steramed anemones, 

Growing on the hillside ! 
I know where to find them. 

Where stones lie not far below 

Or amid the grass they show 
Where the rootlets bind them ; 

There anemones may hide. 
Downy -stemmed anemomes. 

Downy -stemmed anemones ! 

I know where to find them ; 
Where no farmer runs his plow, 

Nor the feet of sheep or ox 

Press too oft above the rocks 
Hid beneath the rough hill's brow; 

There in wreaths they wind them, 
Children wind anemones. 

Downy-stemmed anemones ! 

I know when to find them. 
When the earth is rid of snow 

And the northward breezes come. 

When in sunshine blue flies hum 
Early grains the farmers sow 

(Wind and sun half blind them) ; 
Hunt then for anemones. 



Downy stemmed anemones ! 

I know who will find them 
Fair in color all their own : 

Boys set free from books for play, 

Girls made glad in sunny day 
Seek, — where seed by wind was sown. 

Sunward looking, hill behind them,- 
Seek the first anemones. 



Tlie Bhymed Story of Wisconsin. 9 

XIV. 
What legend Nature's volume fills ! 
What tales are written on these hills ! 
Here ancient glaciers made their way, 
The very earth once seemed their prey 
And where ice streams were turned aside 
The barren earth cold skies defied. 
"This old, old land that men call new," 
Hath oldest part now lair to view. 
Where wrecks of mountains write their age 
On that long undeciphered page, 
That tells where once an island old, 
Waged war with oceans uncontrolled. 

When there were none to count the years, JsJe 

When earth was not a place for tears, Wisconsin. 

When yet there were no graves. 
This ancient land rose from the deep 
Rose with the throbbing of the earth 
That gave a continent its birth. 

That set a bound to waves 
And broke creative night and sleep. 

In vain would be the ambitious thought 
To tell what things have here been wrought 
Since earth-crust bare and drear 
Beat back the heated ocean vast. 
Nor moon nor sun could tell the tale. 
In tones to make men's hearts to quail 
And frightened nations fear 
Old Ocean might reveal the past. 

For here, foam-crowned, the waves once broke, 
A seething mass, in angry stroke, 
Asserting right to reign ; 
Here fierce the strife of sea and land 
Was fought while yet the plastic rock. 
Crushed upward by creating shock, 
Lay struggling as in pain. 
As foe is held by victor's hand! 



10 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

But Ocean keeps his secrets well, 
And raging winds refuse to tell 

What deeds they here have done. 
Here, quivering yet with yielding heat, 
By cloud-mass hid from noon and morn, 
A mighty continent was born 

Unseen by star and sun, 
Unformed, chaotic, incomplete. 

What form or shape of creeping thing 
To Mother Earth did portent bring 
Of changes yet to be? 
What sound, save roar of storm first broke 
Upon the dark and burdened air, 
(Though bearing yet no sigh of care) ? 
What voice was first in glee? 
What timid bird to song awoke? 

When later-born Himalayas high 
Leaped vast to fill the vacant sky 

Felt thou the wondrous thrill? 
When deep the treasures of the mine 
Sought forming earth and hid them there, 
When first the forest graced the air 

And shook at storms' wild will 
Thou gav'st them place and made them thine ! 

Most ancient of old earth's old lands ! 
(We read from rocks now worn to sands) 
Thou hast the first-born's right. 
With seas long strife was thine, and play. 
A kinsman thou to mountains old 
Enrobed in pines and rich in gold 

Thou child of primal night. 
Thou still hast youth in full-orbed day ! 




The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 11 

XV. 

Before the other streams that feed 

The Mississippi's constant greed 

Had even place whereon to be 

Wisconsin's rivers met the sea. 

That sea, displaced by rising earth, 

Left inlet or a narrowed firth ; 

Thus was the Mississippi born 

In that far-off creative morn. 

And here most ancient part we know 

Of that vast realm whose streamlets flow 

To join the Mississippi's flood. 

Great artery of a planet's blood ! 



•»-^«:^«0^*<f-<- 



No single stream, thou river Everywhere ! * The 

See'st high the pole-star, bright in northern air ; Misstsstppu 

And where the unwearied tides 
Made strong with strength of all the mighty seas 
Thy burden lift for thee, Canopus^ burns. 
Full tribute thine from shades where grow the ferns ; 
From mountain -cleft where hides 
The treasured snow till wooed by southern breeze. 

When Appalachian forests feel the light 
And shade thy eastern fountains still the night 
Reigns dark in mountain gloom 
Where high Montana holds thy western springs. 
Divided empire thine 'twixt dark and day, 
From pine to cypress hast thou lengthened way ; — 
Room, boundless deep, make room. 
Unmeasured gift the mighty river brings. 



I According to good authority the word or, rather, the combination of words, 
"Mississippi," means the "Everywhere river," and not merely the "Great river." 

2 The star next to Sirius in brightness. It is visible on the gulf coast but not 
farther north. 



12 TTie Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

What catalogue is thine in rhythraic name 
Of lakes so fair they have no need of fame ; 
Of tributaries old 
That gave thee first thy being and endure 
While mountains wasting turn old seas to land ; 
Of states majestic in a nation grand ; 
Of northern forests cold ; 
Of cities great, from foe and war secure ! 

On bare Archean islands hadst thou birth 
When heated seas fled back from rising earth, 
Earth with no tears nor smiles. 
The massive walls that guard thy westward plain 
Slept then unroused beneath a sunless sea ; 
Than mountains older art thou that to thee 
Through thrice a thousand miles 
Roll dark the iioods thou bearest to the main. 

"Eternal river," men once called thee; men 
Who pierced the forest ; sought the gray wolf's den ; 
Nor Indian arrow feared ; 
For gain the trader ; priest our God to please. 
Fit was the name they gave thee, mighty stream. 
Thou shalt endure till earth with rent and seam 
Grown old and scarred and seared 
Shall waste the floods from tideless, dying seas ! 

XVI. 
These measurements of passing years 
Make man's day, with its hopes and fears. 
Exceeding brief ; in awe we stand 
Read records written by that Hand 
Whose might hath shaped a thousand suns. 
Their message see in light that runs 
From world to world. But humbler task 
Employs our verse ; in reverence ask 
And learn, if waves will answer thee, — 
Waves of a great, once greater, sea 
That beat on iron-reddened shores, 
On rocks unmoved though storm-wind roars. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 13 

Speak, solemn Cheq-u-am-e-gon ! Cheq'U' 

Tell thou of mammoth, bird or fawn, am-e= 

Thou'st known upon thy shores ggjj 

O tell who laiinched thy first canoe, "Bav. 

First felt the heaving of thy breast ; 
First made him in thy woods a guest 
Here where the forest roars? 
When heard'st thou first his wild halloo? 

Let him who'd count thy centuries past 
Confront the storms when billows vast 
By northern winds upborne. 
Hurl ice against the reddened rocks. 
Then let him number blow and blow, 
As Arctic storm-blasts come and go 

And bending pine-trees mourn . 
Count then thy years by storm's wild shocks ! 



*r>«^>0«^5«-» 



XVII. 

Yet standing on this ancient coast 
And pressing rocks that seem to boast 
Their age compared with life of man 
We learn how little worth mere span 
Of years or centuries. Better know 
Man's generous joy; his short-lived woe; 
"One crowded hour of glorious life ;" 
Alternate thrill of peace and strife 
Than be for a thousand years mere rock. 
Again of heroes' prowess talk : 
Here came explorers bold ; here reared 
Defence 'gainst foes they justly feared. 



14 The Bhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

XVIII. 

Thus in unnamed Wisconsin stood 

First shelter (chiefly boughs of wood) 

Constructed by a white man's hand. 

And here on Cheq-u-am'gon's strand 

Its jangling bells their warning gave 

Of midnight foe or Indian knave. 

Where these alarming sounds had rung 

The mass-bell and the censer swung 

When with the traders Allouez came 

And founded with his zeal aflame 

The mission of the Holy Ghost 

And blessed with prayer this new-found ooast. 

XIX. 

He blessed with prayer the homes then here, — 

The homes of men who fled in fear 

From Iroquois in distant East 

Whose triumph, sung at dance and feast, 

Cost many a tribe its bravest, best. 

Nor knew the exiles that the West 

Held other enemies athirst 

For war and blood ; their name accurst 

(The Sioux, the leagued Dakotas great) 

In deep Algonquin words of hate 

Means beast and enemy and snake ; 

These warred on dwellers by our lake. 

XX. 

They warred and won the fierce-fought fight. 
Thus came the sad and bloody night 
Of that old mission's darkened day. 
One hundred three score years the ray 
Of gospel light extinct remained. 
Then men of simpler rite here gained 
Access to Ojibway heart and home. 
Nor did the priest of ancient Rome 
Forget the field ; we thus enshrine 
Those names once joined in work divine, 
Loved Ayer, Baraga and Hall, 
Responsive to their Master's call. 



Tlie Rhymed Stot^ of Wisoonsin. 15 

XXI. 

O beauteous island once their home ! 
Sweet Madeline where tourists roam 
Hence Boutwell went whose Latin gave 
Itasca' s name ; and here the brave 
And sainted Wheelers long abode. 
These waters deep the frail craft rode 
That bore endangered lives who came 
Unheedf ul of coarse sneer or blame 
To seek, as did their Lord, the lost. 
In wind and calm, in heat and frost, 
They followed paths the Indian made 
Through drifted snows or forest shade. 

XXII. 

And hither came, in earlier day. 

The traders bold ; no summer's play 

Was theirs who roamed with brave Du Luth. 

Their hands were strong, and skilled to shoot. 

What realms these great explorers trod, 

Dominions long and empires broad ! 

They found the Indian's narrow trail. 

Traced crooked streams or spread the sail 

Where rivers widen into lakes. 

What piteous shame, for their brave sakes. 

That Bourbon fools had power to fling 

A cont'-nent as a worthless thing ! 

XXIII. 
Wronged soldiers of an tin just king! 
We claim you as our own and sing 
Your praise in this unworthy verse. 
Rewards were not for you ; the curse 
Corrupted courts spread far and near 
Reached you while striving many a year 
For glory of ungenerous France, 
Your own loved land of song and dance. 
But songs should cease when wrongs are done; 
And dances end when God's sweet sun 
Sees fair homes wronged, and dragonades 
Fill all the land with Death's own shades. 



16 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

XXIV. 

Songs ended and the dancing ceased. 

Foul deeds and festering wrongs increased 

Till Bourbon rule was swept away 

In fury of tumultuous day. 

These things ye knew not, could not know. 

For summer's heat and winter's snow 

Had hid from sight for year on year 

The eyes that once, undimmed and clear, 

Saw sharp-browed bluffs and rounded hills 

And prairie paradise that thrills 

Our hearts as yours; oh ye are ours, 

Brave wanderers 'mid our trees and flowers I 

XXV. 
And ours those men whose greater might 
Displaced the Bourbon's vaunted right; 
Colonial boys, — bold hearts, strong arms, — 
And those who came 'mid war's alarms, 
By Chatham sent, to extend the sway 
Of God-made kings whom all obey. 
(Not puppets on a gilded throne 
But true-born kings whose right we own. ) 
The untitled George ^ of Braddock's field 
Shows power his sovereign could not wield. 
For us these heroes victories won ; 
For us their glorious work was done. 

XXVI. 
Great-hearted Wolfe at old Quebec, 
'Mid Bourbon empire's crash and wreck , 
Thanked God for victory, bought with Ufe, 
The climax of a lengthened strife. 
Is he not ours? He fought and died 
That English law, not despot's pride. 
Might rule this extended fair domain, 
War's glorious prize yet freedom's gain. 
Are those not ours who with him fought? 
For states to be they strove and wrought. 
Here bviilt for freedom shrine on shrine. 
Wisconsin ! these are justly thine. 



lOne can not but think that the "George" in Washington's name shows the 
political sympathies of his father. A Tory would not have given his son, in that 
time of conflict between the Jameses and the Georges, the name of two sovereigns 
of the House of Hanover. And yet Augustine Washington's grandfather came 
to Virginia probably an adherent of the Stuarts. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 17 

XXVII. 

Two conflicts great have filled this land. 

The first raged from Atlantic's strand 

To depths of unknown wilderness. 

That time was long : that warred distress. 

That strife began in William's day 

Nor ended till the Frenchman's sway 

Had ceased in North America. 

No governmental replica 

Though formed by royal art might stand. 

The people here would take command 

Nor worship image of a king, 

Poor copy of a worthless thing ! 

XXVIII. 

The second strife called justly great? 
Not that when lawyers wrote "the state" 
In place of "king." For Britons free, 
True Britons born this side the sea, 
Claimed rights that always were their own 
No more ; until they, bolder grown, 
Thrust George's hated rule aside 
And royal words and threats defied. 
No revolution can that be 
That left as it had found men free ; 
Not victims of disorder's maw 
But subjects of continuing law. 

./ 
XXIX. 

The second conflict was the strife 
That threatened once our nation's life. 
The story often has been told. 
O veterans gray ! O soldiers bold ! 
Inspir'ting memories ye gave. 
Ye saved the Union, freed the slave. 
The world has known no manlier fight 
Than that ye made for God and right. 
Nine times ten thousand hence went forth 
From this new state in distant North. 
What sent them forth, our bravest, best? 
What steeled their hearts to stand war's test? 



18 The Ehymed Story of Wisconsin. 

XXX. 

Our homes, our churches, and our schools 
Had taught the Master's blessed rules 
Of sacrifice. "Deny thyself; 
Take up thy cross." Did ever pelf 
Make strong the heart? Can men be brave 
Unless they seek the lost to save? 
Lost was the nation but for those 
"Who battle's danger freely chose. 
Saved was the nation when her sons 
Confronted bravely hostile guns. 
Made offering of their lives, their all, 
At their imperiled country's call. 

XXXI. 

Wisconsin's sons had noble part 

In this great service ; mind and heart 

Burned hot with patriotic flame. 

Who made the homes whence these men came, 

These ninety thousand men and more 

Who faced death in the battle's roar? 

Men who themselves had built our state, 

Had made her loyal, free and great. 

Whence came they? Ask New England hills; 

The proud state ask whose greatness fills 

Expanse from ocean to the lakes 

Where deep Niagara's thunder shakes. 

XXXII. 

Wise builders of the state ! for they 

Established in their early day 

Our churches, schools and Christian homes. 

These better are than gilded domes, 

And nobler far than stately halls, 

And stronger than the massive walls 

That fold defended cities round ; 

These surer are than moat or mound 

As proved defences of the state. 

Our fathers made Wisconsin great. 

Trained in such lineage our youth 

Could ride and shoot and speak the truth ! 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 19 

XXXIII. 

But not alone the fathers came 

From distant Eastern hills aflame 

With burning zeal for liberty. 

And not alone the inland sea 

Spread broad its course for those who sought 

Homes where no man was sold or bought. 

The extended river Everywhere, 

The Mississippi deep and fair, 

Bore from the South a pilgrimage 

Of those who hated Slavery's rage. 

And these true sons helped free their land 

When war-time spoke its stern command ! 

XXXIV. 

And fleeing from another wrong 

There came 'mid migrants' restless throng 

Those exiles who, for conscience' sake, 

Most loved Germania forsake. 

And other exiles crossed the seas 

Their children's chei^ished hopes to please. 

The peasant of old Europe's fields 

Is here the citizen who wields 

A power once held by kings alone ! 

So has enfranchised manhood grown. 

And now we celebrate in song 

Our blending peoples, tested, strong. 




20 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 



Wisconsin 



Wisconsin, favored state, 
Song, In Union true and great 

With East and West ; 
One people, happy, free, 
With realm of South are we, 
With dwellers by the sea ; 

A nation blest. 



They came from far and near 
Who hold Wisconsin dear 

And love her best. 
From lands of German name, 
Bohemia's fields of fame. 
Home-seeking wanderers came 

And here found rest. 



From ancient Italy, 

From Norway, brave and free. 

In deed and name ; 
From Wales, sweet land of song ; 
From England, proud and strong ; 
From Poland, suffering long; 

Our pilgrims came. 



Though seas roll dark between 
The Irish fields of green 

And our fair land, 
Here Celt and Saxon find 
Sweet homes and ties that bind 
With faithful hearts and kind 

From Holland's strand. 



From Scotland's lochs and braes, 
Sweet theme of poet's praise ; 

From Alpine hight; 
From land of Swede and Dane, 
From France, that fair domain; 
From war -trod Belgic plain ; 

Came men of might. 



They who loved home-land well 
In happy song now tell 

A tend'rer love 
Of homes that here abound 
Where peace and joy are found, 
And dearer ties have bound 

To God above. 



J'Tie Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 21 

Land of the oak and pine, 
The prairie and the mine. 

Our chosen state ; 
One people would we be, 
Our nation serve and thee 
In loyal duty free ; 

God make thee great ! 

XXXV. 
The toilers of the fields and mines. 
The men who felled the oaks and pines, 
Who did their work unknown to fame ;— 
The fathers, mothers, — tend'rest name, — 
Who built the home and school and church : 
To these be praise ! No need of search 
For worthier subjects of our song. 
Than labor's heroes, just and strong ! 

XXXVI. 
Be this our hope for future days : 
That faithful toil shall win men's praise ; 
That courage shall possess the soul ; 
That men shall hold, in wise control. 
Their tempers, appetites, desires ; 
And strong in heart, like sturdy sires. 
Shall love the truth and hate a lie ; 
Shall nobly live or bravely die ; 
And build the structure of the state 
Of walls of manhood, true and great ! 

XXXVII. 
But shall we leave unnamed the race 
That everywhere hath left its trace 
In legend, history and name? 
Discoverers they ere Norsemen came. 
Did Kuroshiwo's stream that sweeps 
The North Pacific's soundless deeps 
Bear hence from eastern Asia's isles 
Some victims lured by ocean's wiles ; 
Whose kindred yet, perhaps, abide 
Where Taguls Spanish rule defied? 
Seek answer in the native speech 
That falleth from the lips of each. 



22 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

XXXVIII. 

But ours is not the student's task 
To learn of speech or race ; we ask 
What tribes have made their dwelling here? 
Who held our white men long in fear? 
Their names ye read on lake and stream ; 
Their rich melodious words we deem 
For cities fit, for homes of men ; 
And thus their accents live again. 
And tribes survive that here were found, 
Their children hold ancestral grou.nd. 
And our deep shades have sheltered those 
Who fled from fellow-Indian foes. 

XXXIX. 

And some whose dim traditions tell 

Of western ocean's ebb and swell, — 

"The men of waters never still," — 

Who bravely fought through good and ill 

For colonist of English speech ; 

Who heard the good John Sergeant preach, 

'Midst whom the sainted Edwards taught 

(With Washington their warriors fought) , — 

Their sons to unnamed Wisconsin came. 

Brought mem'ries of their better fame ; 

Brought strange, quaint psalms ; did Brainerd write 

Mohegan verse ; these lines indite? 

Lord, niyoppauweh kpittommon 
My voice paucheh thpokhauk ; 
Ktennemmaunen baupohtommon, 
Nuhhuh dinneh thpoohquoh. 

Neh unnuqqueh wchook Christ auyaut, 
Wetuhhaumaut saint suh, 
Wpautennommuio waunneen okhen 
Auneh weenwommauyuq. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 23 

XL. 
Amid these unknown words we read 
That Name which forms the ample creed 
Of thousand times ten thousand souls. 
And where the dark Atlantic rolls 
There dwelt the fragmentary tribes 
Whose story, writ by unknown scribes, 
Is half -forgotten ; this we know 
That Indian Occom long ago 
In that great Name bade tribes unite, 
Seek peace, love God, and do the right. 
Thus trained in precepts true and great 
These Brothertowns helped found our state. 

XLI. 
Forget not those who never trod 
Wisconsin soil, yet laid the broad 
And strong foundations of our state. 
Who wrought that ord'nance just and great 
Whose passage marked a world's advance ; — 
Wise Cutler of prophetic glance, 
Dane who framed justice into law ; — 
They saved this land from slavery's maw. 

XLII. 
We' debtors are to all who bought 
With life our freedom ; well they fought. 
Hail brothers of Thermopylae, 
Who died 'twixt mountain-side and sea 1 
Hail Maccabean hosts, whose cry 
Of victory filled Judean sky ! 
Hail Martel, struggling for the Lord 
Against the invading Arab horde. 

XLIII. 
For us his German forest home 
Bold Herman freed from tyrant Rome ; 
For us was Magna Charta won ; 
For us Wat Tyler's deeds were done ; 
For us great Cromwell won the day 
In conflict with a false king's sway : 
For us the silent William's might 
Shook off Spain's savagery and blight. 



24 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

XLIV. 
The nation, greater than the state, 
Shall end our song. No blinded fate 
Concealed beyond Atlantic storm 
America's majestic form 
Till nations learned the people's might. 
Till peoples learned God-given right, 
In this thy thought, O God, appears ; 
Thy mighty plan divides the years. 

Sing now the symbol of our chosen land. 

The banner of our hope, and prayer, and pride ; 

Once 'neath its folds men sought foul wrong to hide, 
Atoned in blood. Men died on mount and strand 
That not one star from constellation grand 

That beams upon our flag should lose its place. 

Henceforth in glory let it bless with grace, 
With peace and miercy. Let the nation planned 
So wisely by the fathers count extent 

Not merely in her rivers, hills and plains, 
Nor measure greatness by the throng so bent 

On heaping high the treasure-house with gains 
Too oft ill-won ; but let our colors blent 

In glorious union float where justice reigns ! 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsi7i. 35 

The wind of the west bore a call from the sea The 

And an unknown world. 
Said the voice, "Be ye free, be ye free, be free; Amertcan 

I've a flag unfurled : Flag. 

The white of the cloud and the blue of the sky 
And the low -gleaming red when the long days die. 
Look aloft ; see the stars as they westward go ; 
By their course, and the sun's, ye your guidance know." 

Then a mightier Voice than that of the sea. 

From a higher world, 
Said, "Go, be ye free, be ye free, be free, 

Brave the sea, temj)est-whirled. 
The far shore unknown hath a place for you ; 
To your faith and your God be ye true, be true. 
Look aloft, for your God will your leader be 
Through the storm and the danger, the night and the sea." 

Not alone did our pilgrims hear these calls 

Who, in wise unrest, 
Sought a sea-home dark within wooden walls 

Borne far to the west 
By the ship that in Plymouth's harbor lay 
In the stress and the storm of a winter's day ; 
But all wisely just in their discontent 
At wrongs that had filled a continent ; 
At false priests' lies, and at royal rage ; 
At castes that oppressed from age to age ; 
At wars unjust and at needless pain ; 
At the hurt of the poor, and at ill-got gain: 
All who were moved in their souls to seek 
A home for the bold or a place for the meek : 
Pilgrims were these ; and they hither came 
Like the men of old led by cloud and flame. 

And the wrong that would reach over land and see. 

Found a flag unfurled 
By the men of a mind and a purpose free 

In their new -won world. 
They fought ; and men saw on the wind spread forth 

A new standard bright ; 
It was fair with the white of the frozen North, 

And with blue of night. 
Of the night of the South, still and cloudless and deep. 
In the flag where the stars that, when nations sleep. 
Gleam with light in their changeless course, on the bed 
Where the living sleep, on the grave of the dead. 
It was flushed with the red of the morning sky 
Seen aglow in the east when the long nights die. 



26 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

But no nation yet hath been good or great 

Wherein men have not died for their God and the state. 

Did our land ever call on her sons in vain? 

In her need they have poured out their blood hke rain. 

Deeper red's in the flag than the red in the sky 

Seen afar in the east when the long nights die : 

Deep as red of the crimsoned sacrifice 

When the patriot hero in striving dies. 

Red the blood, white the soul, of the patriot true. 
Pure his gift of his life for the right that he knew, 
For his country's just cause, — justice ever is strong, 
Who would die or ask brothers to die for the wrong? 
"For the right ! for the right !" is the patriot's cry. 
For the right heroes live, for the right they will die. 
So the flag bears the white of a soul unstained, 
A soul that true manhood's high honor hath gained. 

The men of the covenant, bold, brave few, 
Held aloft as the sign of their faith the blue. ^ 
It abides in the flag that their sons once bore 
'Gainst the royal hosts on Atlantic's shore . 
Like the fathers in conflict with cruel Dundee, — 
Like the fathers, the sons did not tremble nor flee. 

And the white could not look on foul Slavery's stain; 
And the stars could not shine on its ill-got gain ; 
For the white of a stainless soul they bear. 
They are stars that shine, not in upper air, 
Nor in shade, nor in night, nor in sun's eclipse, 
But seen by the seer of th' Apocalypse 
In the strong right hand of the Christ our Lord 
Whose word hath might like the thrust of the sword. 

So the red is the crimsoned sacrifice 

When the patriot hero in striving dies. 

And an emblem the white of a soul unstained, 

A soul that pure manhood's true honor hath gained, 

And the blue is the sign of the faith of the few, — 

Of the men bold and brave of the covenant true. 

And the stars of the morn, in their brilliant array, 

Are the Lord's sign of promise of glorious day. 

And the red, white and blue, in our banner unfurled, 

Are the patriot's pride and a hope of the world ! 



I See the dedication of S. R. Crockett's book "The Men of the Moss-Hags." 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 27 



Sunrise on the Lake. 

I saw the building of a bridge of light, 
All the way to the sun. 

Would you know when it was done? 

When the morning and the night 

In a meeting of delight, 
Their hands of blessing lifted on the new-born day ; 

When the wavelets on the lake 

Heard the call, "Awake, awake!" 
The call of the zephyr in its gladness and its play 
It was then I saw the building of the bridge of light 
All the way to the rising of the sun. 

Would you know how it was done 1 

All the messengers that run 
Swift between us and the sun 
Made a pathway on the crest 
Of each tiny wave and pressed 
Waking waters vast and deep 
Waking from their star-lit sleep ; — 
Silent messengers of light. 
Gentle enenaies of night, 
Pressed on music of the wave 
Till the yielding waters gave 
Place and pier for bridge of light. 
O the wonder of the sight 
When the wavelets turned to gold 
In the structure manifold 
And the workmen of the sun 
~ All their splendid task had done ! 

Then the message-bringing workmen of the full-orbed sun 
Stopped them long enough to say 

' 'It is done, well done 

And the new-born day 
Has a pathway all of light 
Leading from the fleeing night 
To the symbol of our God ! 
For the Lord is clothed in light. 
Not to grave with folding sod 
Man should turn for sermoned story 
But to morn with hght and glory. 
Listen! Soon our word is done: 
"Lord our God, thou art a Sun!" 

Endeavor Home, 8 December, '99. 



28 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Two 'H.iVers Song. 

[The Indian name of Two Rivers is Ne-sho-tah.] 

Where music of pines blends with roar of the lake, 
And foam -crested billows on roughened sands break; 
Where suns rise in splendor on Michigan's breast 
And sink in the glory of bright skies to rest ; — 

Home, home, thei'e 's my home ; 

Ne-sho-tah, my heart's-love, wherever I roam. 

There pillars of gold guard the temple of day : 
There light on the waves shows their joy and their play. 
Then night's dark'ning shades o'er the great waters creep 
And stars mark the hours when the weary may sleep. 

CHORUS. 

Though fierce blows the wind of the winter's wild storm. 
Our men, bold to brave it, have hearts true and warm. 
In homes safe and sheltered a softened light gleams 
And falls on the face of the babe as it dreams. 

CHORUS. 

O sweet is the breath of the summer so mild, 
And joyous the song of the glad-hearted child 
Who plays where the wild roses bloom on the shore, 
And hare -bells keep watch as the white sea-birds soar. 

CHORUS. 

There rivers first blend, and then give to the sea 
Their waters — themselves. Be this lesson for me. 
Who loseth life findeth, the Master hath said. 
He taught by the sea, and I walk where he led ! 

CHORUS. 

Lincoln's birthday, 1S98. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 29 



The German Mother in America. 

We old folks, Annie, have a sorrow,— 

We Germans, Danes and Welsh and Swedes. 

To all the old the short to-morrow 

Brings chiefly thought of yesterdays ; 
Remembrance of past years and deeds. 

But mem'ry speaks to us in words. 
Our children scarce can understand. 
Forgive the fancy ; mother birds 

The same notes hear in woodland maze 
Their nestlings learned in distant land. 

But we a different language hear 

From that in which we learned to pray, — 

From that we heard when pi'essing near 

The mother, or upon her knee ; 
From father's lips at close of day. 

Near Wolfenbuettel's forest old 
(Lechlumerholtz its stately name), 
Stood that fair home, as you've been told. 

Where I felt childhood's grief and glee 
And learned Germania's ancient fame. 

How Herman fought with Romans bi'ave, 
And drove those back to Italy 
Who found not in our soil a grave ; 

How Barbarossa, raven-haunted. 
Sleeps till he wake his realm to free. 

O treasure-house of German story ! 
What ills afflict the wicked witch ! 
What plots are thwarted, and what glory 
Attends the warrior-prince undaunted 
Who frees the princess, good and rich ! 

Or the Crusaders' ancient time. 
When men the Holy City sought. 
Lives once again in song and rhyme ; 

The Hon follows Henry's train 
By loyal instinct led and taught. 



30 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

He followed where the Kaiser knelt 

In Brunswick's church, grand old St. Magnus ; 

No soldier-armor, sword or belt 

The Kaiser wore ; the lion's mane ; 
Crouched low before the Dei Agnus. 

But you the British stories hear, 
And you the English language speak ; 
To you New England tales are dear ; 

John Alden and Priscilla charm you ; 
You mourn Evangeline the meek. 

Your forests are but so much lumber ! 

No fairies covirse at midnight through them. 

Oaks, maples, pines, — these must not cumber 

Where plows can cut, although it harm you 
To lose the birds and trees that drew them. 

Your farm-homes always are for sale ; 
The child knows more than all his teachers ; 
Each man has schemes that can not fail 
To make the nation rich — on paper ; 
And pastors here are only "preachers." 

"Smart" is your word of highest praise; 
And "hustlers" model men of trade; 
Your girls are aping mannish ways ; 

Your boys hunt "snaps," and it's the "caper' 
To use the tongue as steel-edged blade ! 

But mine the common fault has learned! 
My land this is for good or ill. 
In girlhood days, when sunsets burned 
I dreamed of home beyond the sea. 
And wiser choice I count it still. 

For here the faith of ancient day 
Unfettered, loved, is ours once more ; 
No king can bid us what to say 

In Sabbath worship, heartfelt free ; — 
In prayer, and psalm and sacred lore. 



Tlie Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 31 

His grave is here who made me wife ; 
He struggled hard a home to make 
And conquered in that manly strife. 

"Dutch John" he was to Hoosier neighbors; 
It makes me angry for his sake. 

But then ! Their farm so long ago 

"Was sold that few remember, dear, 

When "Dutch John" honest, plodding, slow, 

Awake with morn to faithful labors, 
Bought all they had ; ours many a year. 

Then came the days when my boy Herman 
Who soon would wed heard call to arms. 
Your father, Annie, fought with Sherman; 

How sturdy he, and bold to dare ! 
They heroes were who left our farms. 

Were they not brave who sent them forth? 
Our nation's ramsom twice was paid ; 
In both realms twice ; in South, in North. 
What deeds to do, what grief to bear 
Men left their homes, and women stayed. 

Only to die did some return ; 
Some found a-field a soldier's death. 
What lesson did our people learn? 

American we are ; all one ! 
This were we taught by war's hot breath ! 

Home Herman came, lived happy years ; 

I need not tell his daughter so ! 

But oh, my Henry ! Through my tears 

Again I seem to see the son 
I gave so many years ago ! 

To this, my chosen land, with pride 

And mother's grief ; O surely I 

May call that mine for which he died ! 

Yet if I love th' ancestral shore 
Do I my blood-bought land deny ? 



32 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

And though I love Wisconsin fair, 
That spot is dear where Heniy hes ; 
They laid him where he fell, and there 

My heart, these years, turns more and more 
When silence falls and twilight dies. 

O Georgia, thou art dear to me ; 
And Kenesaw, unseen yet known! 
For there are soldiers' graves, and he 

My loved, my own, 'neath Southern sky, 
Sleeps his last sleep ; ah, not alone. 

How many mothers wept with me ! 
To us was mutual utterance given. 
The eye made clear with tears can see 

When trembling lips let accents die 
And grief's a storm by fierce winds driven ! 

Yet there is sorrow that hath pride. 
And such was ours ; high words of praise 
Came for the sake of «sons who died ; 

Those words how well our mem'ries keep ! 
In English writ, in far-off days. 

How strong that conquering English speech ! 
In day's broad glare I love it well ; 
And when men talk, debate, or preach 

Its affluence roars like torrent deep ; 
Adventure, strife aijd triumph tell. 

But when the evening bells I hear. 
Or when I soothe a little child ; 
And when I sing, or mourn, or fear, 

The words I learned in childhood's days 
Fall from my lips in accents mild. 

Fair as your lover once was he. 
Your father's father, Annie dear, 
Who gave his pledge of love to me 

In German cadence, rich in praise ; 
With vows thus spoken who could fear? 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 33 

O German ! language of the heart ! 
How tender was that lover's vow ! 
Still do I hold, by mem'ry's art, 

His words and theirs who gave me Hfe. 
Almost I hear them even now ! 

Each day brings answer to the prayer 
That asks contentment with my lot. 
You soon may write on marble fair 

His words, — dear words: "Beloved wife ;" 
Forget not these: "Hier ruht in Gott." 



♦-^^t^O^**?-* 



She Tells of Scottish Morgaret. 

So Frithjof wants you for his wife, 
My Annie dear ; I'll not say no. 
God give you both a happy life 
(She spoke in trembling voice and low) ; 
A son to me; my Marg'ret's child. 

My arms were first to take him when 
His Scottish mother lay a-dying. 
Her home had been in Ayrshire glen 
And once she said "The whaups are crying 
O'er martyrs' graves in storm-shade wild. 

I've read since then in Scottish story 
Those same sad words. But to my tale. 
Long years ago the schooner Corey 
Was driv'n ashore in northeast gale 
And with her, Scottish Margaret. 

A big Norwegian sailor brought her 
Ashore where now the lighthouse stands. 
There's just one ending ; soon he sought her, 
Then wed, and strove with honest hands 
His wife to keep from fear or fret. 



34 The Rhymed Story of Wiseonsin. 

But ducklings hens can't keep from water, 
Nor women sailors from the sea, 
Not even Frithjof's baby daughter, 
As Maggie often mourned to me 

Could keep on land the husband sailor. 

His captain wanted him for mate 
And money Frithjof sorely needed. 
The old, old story ; nothing great. 
The men said "Go," and them he heeded 
And Maggie would not be his jailer ! 

So sailed he forth and came again. 
And more than once in summer days 
Our Margaret from Ayrshire glen 
Sang him sweet psalm or paraphrase. 

And said good-bye with tears held back. 

These Scottish tears are all too few ! 
We Germans have a better way 
And to our loving hearts are true. 
The Scotch folk do the things they say ; 
In uttered tenderness they lack. 

The season passed into November 
And Frithjof's boat was coming home. 
You know the rest ; I well remember 
That dreadful day when heaven's dome 
Seemed only place for storm and strife. 

But who told Maggie Frithjof's danger? 
I knew that all the afternoon 
His boat, — I knew it well, the Ranger — 
Had shoreward drifted and must soon 
To foaming waves fling Frithjof's life. 

Nor his alone. But him I knew, 
The others were to me unknown. 
Down to the beach I almost flew 
And there I heard my Maggie moan. 
Then darker grew the dying day. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 35 

The helpless schooner struck the land ; 
There seemed no light but where the wave 
Burst foaming high above the sand 
And, like a snow-piled, moving grave, 
Engulfed the living for its prey. 

Your Fi-ithjof's father fought for life, 
But limbs were palsied with the cold. 
He spoke, they said, of babe and wife — 
You've often heard the story told, 
I seem to see him lying there ! 

That night your Frithjof , dear, was born 
While fierce the wind was howling yet. 
His mother died before the morn ; 
To baby Jean she called, "My pet , 

Come, I would kiss you, bairn, once mair !" 

And with that kiss passed pain away ; 
She mourned no more her Frithjof dead. 
Her face was bright as when the day 
Makes glad the east when night has fled ; 
She smiled her thanks to us who wept. 

Then spoke she of the whaups and graves, 
And tried to sing the ancient psalm, 
' 'The Lord's my shepherd, " and the waves 
Grew silent, for there fell strange calm, 
She kissed your Frithjof, then she slept. 

To the Silent Soldier. 

[Read at the unveiling of the Two Rivers Soldiers' Monument.] 

Has time turned backward? Was it all a dream 
That he, for whom tears fell like autumn rain. 
Whose name, years past, men read in list of slain, 

Is dead? He hves ! And they to us who seem 

Bent, aged, gray, have they grown young again? 
Is this form theirs? They claim it, and in truth 
Here stands each one as in his days of youth 

And he called dead is dwelling yet with men. 



36 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

O moveless lips ! ye have no need of voice, 

Yet, like Eve's murdered son, ye speak though dumb. 

We hear once more great Lincoln's summons, "Come!' 
We know the brave heart's answering throb, the choice 
That made the boy a soldier clothed with strength 
. That thrust men forward into face of death, 

Sent them on duty into deadly breath 
Of poisoned marsh or pest'lent rivers' length. 

Tell us, O tell, the narrative of years 

Of high endeavor ; days of fiercest fight ; 
Of conflict lasting into reddened night 

(If you would know the story hear with tears 

As fathers heard and mothers) ; of the strife 

Renewed with new-born day ; of those who bled 
At Chickamauga, and who there lay dead 

Or on unnumbered fields gave precious life. 

It matters little where they fell ; they rest 

In the proud nation's heart and memory. 

Proud is a hero's mother ; proud are we 
Of these our brothers; these our bravest, best. 
Whether they fell where Lookout's hights were scaled, 

Or pierced Virginia's battled wilderness. 

Or died in prison's piteous duress, 
Their praise has ceased not nor their glory paled ! 

Tell us the civic virtue of the time 

When Lincoln, speaking in the people's name, 

Appealing unto God, won endless fame 
(Told none too oft in statue, speech and rhyme) 
By freeing burdened men from hated wrong, — 

Hurt, shame, alike to master and to slave. 

Rejoice, O raanhood! that to all he gave 
New honor that exults in praise and song ! 

Bid us, O silent soldier ! act the part 

In our brief day, of men who feel the shame 
Of coward silence when the sacred name 

Of Liberty is used with evil art 

To hide contempt of justice and of right ; 
To excuse neglect of duty unto God. 
Forbid a mind irreverent, unawed ; 

Teach us to live as dwelling in his sight. 



TJie Rhymed Stoi^ of WisGonsi7i. 37 

We give thee message to the future days : 

Speak to the men who in the years to come 

Shall read thy face when our frail lips are dumb. 
Say that with all our faults we gave them praise 
Who nobly lived or bravely died ; whose hands 

Were clean of ill-got gain; whose hearts were just; 

Whose lives, whose wealth, whose all, were held in trust 
For common good, — poured out at God's commands! 

When years shall lengthen into centuries, 

When thou thyself shalt fall, as all things must, 
And these set stones shall waste to common dust 

Still shall men throng where just adventure is ; 

Where Duty summons Courage : where hurts plead ; 
And, as God can of stones raise faithful sons. 
So then in currents of the blood that runs 

In men's warm hearts thou shalt have life indeed I 



--^»*^0>^s.s^-^ 



Mere Verses. 

Our wise men say that the Muses no more 

As they formerly did in the ages before 

Our various changes — improvements? — were made 

Seek mountains' cold hight or the forests' deep shade ; 

But finding the trade with their purses agreeing 

They are dealing in books that discuss the true being 

Of things that are ontological 

On grounds that are psychological ; 

And the whenceness of the wherefore. 

And the whyness of the therefore; 

And other merry themes like these. 

Light and frisky as the breeze. 

Of volumes they have, as we're told, not a few; 
They've books on all subjects, old, varied and new: 
Alchemy, chemistry, law and theology. 
Physics and algebra, Greek and geology, 
X-rays and medicine, art and conchology, 
And folios huge are on palaeontology. 



38 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

But still, you know, they deal in rhymes, 
And accents clear that sound like chimes ; 
In different kinds of metrical feet 
In various strains of harmony sweet. 

"And now. Calliope, what is here; 

Iambi or trochees, or anapaest clear?" 

(The casket I lifted was heavy as lead. ) 

"Material, sir, for an epic," she said. 

' 'No use for that in the present dull age ; 

Men read not the volume but only the page." 

"Euterpe, now am I mistaken? I've guessed 
That this little cover encloses the best 
State song that we of Wisconsin may hear." 
The one we have waited for many a year." 

She answered, "Quite right; 

It's a gem, a delight ; 
But one that another, not you, must write." 

A wonderful tablet there was that displayed 
A number of meters of very high grade. 
There was verse acatelectic 
Wrought in Doric dialectic 
There were Sappho's broken strains, 
Source of freshman woe and pains ; 
Logaoedic lines in plenty, — 
Different sorts full five and twenty. 
But the dochmiacs abounded, 
And alcaics, oft confounded 

With glyconics, 

And ionics. 

But when I asked Melpemone 
If some of these things were for me ; 
' 'No, " she said, ' 'I'm somewhat willful ; 
These go only to the skillful." 

"What is left," I asked, "for me? 
Have you cadence like the sea 
Beating slow on pebbled shores? 
When the storm no longer roars?" 

"Had I cadence hke the sea. 
Such a gift is not for thee ; 
What I give thee gladly take ; 
Learn thy music from the lake ; 
Breathe the breath of fragrant pines ; 
By such rhythm count thy lines." 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 39 

A Summer Night by Our Inland Sea. 

Artist in music write a soothing strain 

Caught from the murmur of the low-voiced waves 
When they, — so troubled when the wild wind raves, — 

Pulse on the shore, forgetting storm and rain. 

Painter in silver, and in blue, and light, 
Hang low a moon, now full, in southern sky ; 
Put out the stars save, northward and on high, 

Where the Great Bear keeps watch this perfect night. 

Surely on such a night Lorenzo wooed 

Fair Jessica in gardens of Belmont. 

She with quick speech (for such is lover's wont) 
Quarreled with praises, sweet as honeyed food. 

On such a night we dwellers by the sea 

View trebled glory both on lake and land ; 

The waves are silver, and the rippled sand 
Shares in their gliding all their Hght and glee 1 

The Heroine's Eyes. 

[According to popular novels.] 

First came the hero ; then her eyes 
She coyly dropped upon the floor ; 
And yet, whatever your surprise, 
She^aw as she had done before. 

She must have picked them up, for soon 
On printed page those sweet eyes fell ; 
And next she tTirned them to the moon ; 
And then — perhaps I should not tell — 

Then came a quarrel ; eyes grew hot ; 
And hers in indignation blazed. 
Then fiery glances forth they shot ; — 
What wonder had she then been crazed ! 

And yet those eyes withstood the fire, 

But only more abuse to bear. 

She lifted them ; there was a spire 

On distant church ; she fixed them there. 



40 The Rhymed Stofy of Wisconsin. 

She somehow loosed them from the spire 
And farther yet those poor eyes threw ; 
Uplifted higher, higher, higher. 
They roved the dark' ning heavens tlirough. 

She gave them then a needed rest 
(A moment's only though, we're told) 
On Venus, glowing in the west ; 
Then, turning, she, so calm and cold 

Pierced with her eyes the hero's soul. 
They darted then, — I mean those eyes, — 
Far down the street, and next they roll 
As if in madness or surprise. 

They wandered then, — those eyes, you know, 
Uneasy, troubled, full of feeling ; 
And from him, to him, come and go 
Until they're lifted to the ceiling. 

What next occurred you'll scarce believe. 
That girl, — a dream in blue and lace, — 
Found that her eyes, — I don't deceive, — 
Were riveted upon his face! 

Remarkably, those eyes, soon free, 
A carriage follow down the street 
They quick return, and now you'll see 
What's done to eyes, coy, dear and sweet. 

She washed them in her sad, salt tears ! 
Then dried them on a bit of lace ; 
Dismissed her anger and her fears 
And turned her eyes full on his face ! 

This painful story now must end ; 
Those eyes, each like a harmless dove 
Whose cooings with the soft air blend. 
Were melted in a glance of love ! 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 41 

The Difference. 

Wisconsiners we are and own it, 

And some thei'e are who've always known it ; 

For such we have sincere respect 

And they may good from us expect. 

To some who spell and accent wildly 

We firmly say (to put it mildly) : 

"If of our favor you'd be winners, 

Don't call us — don't — the Wisconsinners !" 

From "The SeVen Against Thebes." 

The thanksgiving and the sorrow of the chorus. Thanksgiving because the 
defence of the city, — Thebes of Boeotia,— had been successful; sorrow because 
of the strife and death of the brothers Eteocles (true glorj'). and Polynices 
(much strife) who fell slain, each by the hand of the other. 

O great-hearted Zeus and ye gods of our city 

Who saved from our foes these proud towers of Cadmus, 

Shall I now rejoice o'er this city in safety 

Or utter lament o'er the childless, the fated, 

Dead lords of the battle, 
Whose names boded doom and who, striving have perished 

In impious warfare? 

From the First "Book of the Odyssey. 

Spake then the son of Ulysses, addressing the bright-eyed Athena, 
Holding his head near in order that others might hear not : 
"Stranger and guest are you ; will you be angry whatever I utter? 
Naught to these men is a care but the cithara's sound and the 

singing. 
Careless are they, for the wealth of another unpunished they're 

wasting. 
Wealth of another whose white bones lie rotting afar in the 

tempest ; 
Earth gives them rest or afar in the billows they roll in the ocean. 
Were he but living and these men should see him to Ithaca 

coming 
Hinds' feet would all choose for swiftness; not gold or the 

splendor of garments." 



43 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

From "Baxter's "Saints' "B^est." 

Rest! 

How sweet the sound 1 
Melodious to my ears ! 
Reviving cordial at my heart ! 
It sendeth living spirits forth 
Through all the pulses of my soul ! 

Rest! 

Not as the stone that rests on the earth, 

Nor as this flesh shall rest in the grave, 

Nor such a rest 

As the carnal world desires. 

O blessed rest ! 

When we rest not, day and night, 

Saying, "Holy, holy, holy, 

Lord God Almighty!" 

When we shall rest from our sin 

But not from our worship 

From suffering and sorrow 

But not from our joy. 

O, blessed day ! 

When I shall rest with God ! 

Rest in the bosom of my Lord ! 

When I shall rest 

In knowing, loving, rejoicing and praising! 

When my perfect soul and body 

Shall together 

The perfect God most perfectly enjoy ! 

When God who is love itself 

Shall perfectly love me 

And rest in His love to me 

As I shall rest in love to Him ; 

And over me rejoice with joy 

And joy with singing 

As I shall then rejoice in Him ! 



The wonderful paragraph from which this is taken finds place in at least one 
volume of "Choice Specimens of English Literature." So melodious is it that 
little change, save arrangement of lines, is needed to give it the form of a poem; 
its au'thor gave' it the spirit and beauty of one. 

i8g7,June 14. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 43 

The Old Fairplai; Meeting=House.^ 

Fall'n asleep are they that built thee. 
Broken ruin soon thou wilt be 
Dark thy walls with rain and storm. 
Near thee, many a silent form. 
All that men now ask of thee ; 
That thou wilt a shelter be 
While the solemn prayer is said 
By the coffin of their dead. 

Few and scattered they that love thee, 
And the sun that beams above thee 
Sees on many a humble stone 
Gray with moss and lichen grown. 
Names of those who worshiped in thee, 
Waking memories sad within me, 
Till again their forms appear, — 
Forms of those I still hold dear. 



"Judgment, judgment, judgment," say'st thou 

Silent preacher ! justly may'st thou 

Echo sermon yet again — 

Truth thou'st heard from faithful men : 

"Those forgetting God shall perish." 

Earnest prophet ! should we cherish 

This thy teaching? Look around. 

Where were homes are ashes found. 

Ash of wood the wind may scatter 
But, howe'er transgressor flatter 
Deadened heart or blinded mind 
]Mad with fury, doom in kind 
Followeth hate's unpitying flame 
Leaving ash of endless blame. 
Pitying God, whose house we see. 
Let it turn the heart to thee ! 



I In Puritan and correct usage the "meeting-house" is the place where God 
meets man. Compare the expression "tent of meeting" in the Revised Version 
of the Old Testament. 



44 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Walls grown old with storm and sun 
Faithfully their work was done 
Who with little skill once wrought ye 
Yet with sturdy labor brought ye 
From unshapen beam and board 
Cut from forests' ancient hoard 
Stand ye while ye may and shade 
Holy place where dead are laid. 

Few are they who tread the street 
Few are left old friends to greet 
Lessening number they who love thee 
Yet the God who reigns above thee, 
Ancient bethel, answereth prayer 
All are objects of His care 
All included in His plan 
Who within thee meeteth man ! 



«-;3t^Oi^*6f-» 



Twentieth Anniversary of Christian EndeaVor. 

Earth hath day without an ending ; 
Always night and morn are blending 
Sheen of star and light of sun ; 
Somewhere day has just begun. 

Earth hath night without an ending ; 
Always day and eve are blending 
Light of star and fading sun ; 
Somewhere night has just begun. 

Earth hath spring-time without ending ; 
Winter's cold and summer blending 
Bring the sower's duty near ; 
Somewhere is the morn of year. 

Earth hath autumn without ending ; 
Summer's heat and winter blending 
See the reaper's duty done, 
See the eve of year begun. 



TJie Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 45 

Night eternal, day unending, 
Season with its sequel blending 
Fill the vast expanse of earth 
Herewith sorrow; there with mirth. 

Life of man hath glorious inorning. 
Great its promise and adorning ; 
Hours made bright with rising sun 
See the toil of day begun. 

Life of man hath day of serving ; 
Wage beyond our best deserving ; 
Strength is ours for every need. 
Grace for generous thought and deed. 

Life hath hour of eve' s declining ; 
See, wise soul, without repining 
Length'ning shadows, for the night 
Giveth rest, and then comes light. 

Light renewed in day eternal. 
Light of life in joy supernal. 
Day of service, day of song, 
Day triumphant over wrong ; 

Brighter than earth's brightest morning. 
Fairer than night's rich adorning, 
Lovelier than dawn of year. 
Is that day that draweth near. 

Day unmeasured by earth's motion. 
Age of ages, time's vast ocean ; 
Day whose dawn in sweet surprise 
Gladdens now our waiting eyes; — 

Ye its dawn whose gladsome morning 
Hath th' eternal Light's adorning ; 
Ye its dawn whose radiant truth 
Guides through years a heart of youth. 

Hail, ye 'hosts of high Endeavor! 
Him ye serve who, halting never. 
Armored in transcendent wonder 
Leads to battle's deepest thunder. 



46 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Won are victories unnumbered 
Yet still onward ! Be not cumbered, 
Soldiers of our Christ, with sinning 
Onward still, new conflicts winning. 

Ye of Christ's own new creation, 
Host of His in expectation. 
Joined in blessed federation. 
Hold ye now glad celebration, 
Hear the cry of victory ringing, 
Come before the Ijord with singing ! 

EndeaVor Consecration Hymn. 

(Tune: "The Suwanee River.") 

Where I may serve Thee best, O Master, 

Keep me or send ; 
Life's days are passing fast and faster, 

Soon labor here must end. 
Joy is it, blessed Lord, to serve Thee 

Where thou dost call. 
Mountain or plain or forest please me ; 

Things either great or small. 

CHORUS. 

For Thy love that maketh gladness. 

Master, I praise Thee ; 
Thy love doth conquer sin and sadness. 

Thou savest even me. 

In brightest sunshine call to serve Thee, 

Call me in storm ; 
Here, near the homes of those who love me, 

Or to strange face and form ; 
To busy cities' crowded thronging, 

Or desert lone ; 
Or 'mid earth's angry strife and wronging. 

Or to the sad heart's moan. 

CHORUS. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 47 

Blessed the loving hand that saved me ; 

Hand pierced and torn. 
Blessed the tender heart that owned me, 

Sinner condemned, forlorn. 
Thy loving kindness, it hath won me ; 

Love all Thine own. 
And, Master, when in joy I meet Thee, 

Let me not come alone ! 

CHORUS. 



Funeral Hymn for the jiged. 

IN MEMORY OF MRS. E. B. SEWELL. 
Called home, October 9, 1888. 

Fullness of ripened wheat 
Gathered in well-bound sheaves. 
Richness of grape 'mid fruitful leaves, — 

Choice gifts of summer's heat : 

Beauty of autumn leaf 
Glowing with color bright, 
Shining, tho' chilling breath so light 

Endeth the summer brief : 

Wheat, grape and leaflet fair : 
Fit emblems these of Thee, 
Servant of God, from earth set free 

Glad life above to share. 

To a Sister's Memory. 

Strong in thy gentleness, and gentle in thy strength ; 
Forgetful thou of self, mindful of all held dear 
(And all were dear whom thou could'st serve or bless) 
Thou'lt be no stranger in a world of love. 



48 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Jin jiugust Morning by the Lake, 

Low winds bear silence from the west. 
And so I know 

That yonder 'neath horizon's crest, 

Where half-hid steamers come and go 
And schooners drift with sails of snow. 

The deep, dark waters are at rest. 

The scarce-felt wavelets, low and slow, 
Are soundless on the lake's broad breast, 
And only murmur where the crest 
Of sand dune hath this hour's sweet rest 
When winds breathe faintly from the west ; 
Breathe slow and low. 

Ht;mn. 

Sung at the laying of a corner stone. 

If human lips to-day were still. 
And living voice and speech were dumb, 

The very stones with praise would thrill 
And answered prayer, — "Thy kingdom come." 

For gifts of love, like this, bring near 

The hope of lab' ring ages past; 
The kingdom of our Christ is here. 

Triumphant is His reign at last. 

Let wisdom rule the earth in peace ; 

Let error flee the growing light ; 
Let sound of war and tumult cease, 

And day of truth dispel the night. 

Here rev'rent age shall bow the head. 
And hither youth in gladness turn ; 

Here thought in way of truth be led. 
And faith its quiet lesson learn. 

O God of mercy, throned above, 

Bless Thou these walls and make Thine own. 
This off'ring of our faith and love 

That rests on sure Foundation Stone ! 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 49 

"Dedication Hymn. 

If Christ's blest form, unseen so long, 

Should come again in joy and song ; 

If, as on Harmon's mount, should shine, 

In this house now, the light divine , 

What strength'ning comfort to each heart ! 

Then ours the favored children's part, 

To greet our Lord as he appears. 

And own his love with grateful tears. 

Lo, He hath come ! God manifest, 
In pardon of the sin confessed, 
In help to mortal weakness given. 
In offered grace, in hope of heaven. 
Then hallowed be this place and blest, 
Where Christ Himself, a welcome guest, 
With blessing enters from above, 
The hearts of those who serve in love. 

Betfond. 

Gray, through the fullness of the rain, 
The hills beyond the waves appear 
A strip of earth 'twixt lake and sky. 
Yet homes are there with joy and pain 
And, darkness past, the morning clear 
Shall bring them to the eager eye. 

The hours of deeper darkness fall. 
Rain-beaten lake and sky alone 

Give fading light to sight grown dim 
Yet stand the hills unseen and all 
That made them fair, and trees full-grown 
That lined the near horizon's rim. 

And is it thus not far away 
The hills of Paradise abide, 

And storms that come with rain and night 
And darkness of the fading day 
That home with trees of life now hide? 
Away with fear ! Soon comes tlie light ! 

Lake Monona, 1891, June 1. 



50 Tlie Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Mother and Soldier Son.^ 

1864, June 15. 

This day he died 

At Kenesaw; 
Shot dead in uniform of blue. 
He fought for me, he fought for you; 

For right, for law, 

For these he died. 

His empty veins here stained the sod, 

The veins his mother's heart once filled, 
The brave, strong heart so deeply thrilled 

By this new trust, received from God. 

What prayed she for the new-born son 

With prayer that needs not words nor breath? 
A distant home? A soldier's death? 

She prayed for him man's duty done ! 

Prayed that his life might lessen wrong; 

That all his love be true and pure; 

Neglect and hurt he might endure; 
Himself be valiant, just and strong. 

Like all who build toward stars and skies, 
Her work was loftier than she knew; 
Her prayer's deep meaning, earnest, true, 

Was hidden from her longing eyes. 

Eyes closed too soon in endless sleep; 
For near the murmur of the Clyde 
On far-oflf summer day she died 

And left the babe; too young to weep. 

By kindred borne across the sea 

He found unmothered shelter where 
The heat and chill of Northern air 

Call man to strenuous service free. 

Thence from the rock-browed hills he went. 
From winter school and rural plays, 
From harvest toil in summer days, 

At Duty's call; with brave intent. 



I Written in memory of Margaret Correns Nelson and of her son Joseph, a 
soldier of Company I, Twenty-fifth Regiment, Wisconsin Volunteers. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 51 

And so he fell at Kenesaw 

Shot dead in uniform of blue. 

He died for me, he died for you, 
Where thousands fought for right and law. 

The mother died at Rutherglen ; 

Her life unknown, so deep, so still, 
So strong in righteous choice and will. 

Hath added to the ranks of men. 

And is there left but empty name. 

And bone and flesh returned to clay? 

No morning of a happier day? 
No hope that Love the Brave may claim? 

Be thine, if thou wilt have it so, 

The doubt that claims to be profound. 
That talks in words of thundering sound 

But answers Hope with constant "No." 

Be mine the unchanging simple trust 
That Love and Life are more than dust. 



To a Lakeside Forest. 

Twice do I see thee, forest fair. 
In water once and once in air. 
Above thee shines October's sun 

And, from the mirror of the lake 
Till sun-lit hours their course have run. 
On zephyr-waves that fragrance bear. 
His glorious beams upon thee break. 

Twice glorified in beauteous light, 
The touch of God hath made thee bright. 
In gold and crimson gleam thy leaves ; 

Do any sigh and say, ' 'Ah death 
Hath smitten them; all nature grieves?" 
O forest fair, from winter's night 

Thou'lt wake again with April breath ! 

Lake Monona] 1890. 



52 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Where the Child Does Not Grow Old. 

A lighter touch than that of painter's hand 
Hath drawn on walls of loving memory 

Fair pictures, — as of face by zephyr fanned; 
Or romping girl, or boy in wholesome glee. 

A child there was in by -gone, happy years, 
Whose sleeping form abides in memory yet. 

Closed eyes, fair cheek ; these had no trace of tears. 
The beating heart; that had no fear or fret. 

The child no more I see ; a sturdy boy 
Dwells where he dwelt, and writes as his the name 

The babe once bore ; and truly it is joy 
His life to guide, his honest love to claim. 

But none shall see again that sleeping child, 
For earth in growing life or heaven above 

Must claim each babe ; and where the boy hath smiled 
Or girl pressed mother-heart in fondest love, — 

Thence must the children go, but each will leave 
An unchanged self with us while they grow old 

And thus to parents do the children cleave 
Though far away, or in the Shepherd's fold. 

If thither they are called while yet the morn 
Shows risen star — dawn waking from her sleej), 

Let none forget that all of mother born 
Leave treasured childhood for our love to keep! 




The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 53 

"Bible Hexameters. 

The poet Longfellow once wrote of the. "glorious tiexameters" of the Knglish 
Bible. He adduced these examples: 

God is gone up with a shout; the Lord with the sound of a 
trumpet. — Psalm XL VII. 5. 

Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them. — 
Col. III. 19. 

[The latter has a labored movement, for it is composed mostly of spondees.] 
Following this suggestion of Longfellow I have noted some Bible hexame- 
ters that are hereto subjoined: 

God shall be with you, and bring you again to the land of your 
fathers.— G«e«. XL VIII. 21. 

The Lord is my strength and song, and he is become my salva- 
tion.— ^Jcc. XV. 2. 

The stranger that sojourneth with you shall be unto you as 
the home -born.— iev. XIX. 34, R. V. 

Slack not thy hand from thy servants; come up to us quickly 
and save us. — Joshua X. 6. 

Now drink no wine nor strong drink, and eat not any unclean 
t\iin^.— Judges XIII. 7, R. V. 

Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness. Tremble before 
him. I. Chron. XVI. 29, 30, R. V. Also Psalm XCVI. 9, R. V. 

Lord, thou art God, and hast promised this good thing unto thy 
servant.— I Ghron. XVII. 30, R. V. 

Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established. 
Prov. IV. 2a. 

Their horses' hoofs shall be counted like flint, and their wheels 
like a whirlwind.— Jsa. V. 28. 

It was on this passage, according to Chief Justice Chase, that Mr. Lincoln's 
lips rested when he kissed the Bible on taking for the second time the oath of 
inauguration as President of the United States. It is comparable with that fine 
verse of Vergil's iEneid (XI. 875): 

Quadrupedoque putrem cursu quatit ungula campum. 

Wisdom and might are his : and he changeth the times and 
the seasons. — Daniel II. 20, 21. 

Were there none found that returned to give glory to God, 
save this stranger? — Luhe XVII. 18, R. V. 

Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection. 
—Rev. XX. 6. 



54 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

On the Campus. 

Doane College, Crete, Nebraska. 

Look round about thee, thou son of this college, mid tell what thou 

seest. 

Westward the way, by broad slopes, to the mountams; eastward 

that long path 
Made by the race that for ages has followed the sun's potent 

guiding. 
Makers of states are its children; they builded and broadened 

our nation. 
See in the course where they walked a new earth, according to 

promise : 
Houses of God and his people, and homes that are filled with 

rejoicing; 
Cities abundant in wealth, and rivers laden with commerce . 

' 'Barren the plains of Nebraska, these will beat back emigration. " 
Thus spake the many who dwelt, in safety and ease, at a distance. 
"Storms beat down from the Rockies' high crests, and winds 

from the Arctic 
There wage warfare unending with simooms from llanos of 

Texas; 
Red men, coyotes, and bisons there have rightful dominion." 

Races courageous forget not traditions nor cease in their move- 
ments. 

Those who, guarding each step with their rifles, made way 
through the forest 

Pushing resistless their way with the plow o'er the prairies at 
last stood 

Where the Missouri' s clay banks extended them farther allure- 
ment 

(Such invitation adventurers long for) : a measure of danger. 

Lands to be taken and homes to be builded where no one has yet 
dwelt, 

Counti ng the red man as no one for such is the way of the Saxon. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 55 

Pathways margined with lone graves showed them the way to 

the ocean 
Rolling afar to the west ; the way to the snow-crowned Sierras 
Rich in their gold-bearing quartz and laden with dark, fragrant 

forests. 
Thither had thousands departed, and many found graves by the 

wayside. 

Here on their overland pathway a new state came into being; 
Hither came sons of a pilgrimage larger than Plymouth's or 

Hartford's ; 
Here pilgrim churches erected their bethels, and presbyter - 

bishops, 
Pauline in doctrine and spirit, instructed their home -making 

people. 

Where are there not sons of Yale, of Harvard, and Amherst; of 

Dartmouth, 
Hamilton, Princeton, Beloit ; of Oberlin, Williams and Bowdoin. 
(Names that may well stand for all their fraternity, honored, 

majestic). 
Men of such training as these give must needs here a college 

establish. 
Homes and the school for all children, the church and the college. 
All these together, and God in them all make a Puritan nation. 

One in their nature are school and the college ; one in their pur- 
pose : 

Training of childhood to manly uprightness and womanly graces. 

Thus hath the college true children who never read Homer or 
Vergil. 

What they themselves were deprived of fathers give oft to their 
children. 

Want for the one hath been often abundance and blessing for 
many. 

Name that unspoken we celebrate ! this is just claim to high honor 

That in this work thou wast leader, true-hearted son of New 
England ; ^ 



I Mr. Thomas Doane, civil engineer of Boston; who was still living at the 
quarter-centennial celebration (1897), of the college that bears his name. These 
lines were written with that occasion in mind, though they were not then either 
read or publishecL 
L.OT C, 



56 The Rhymed Stoi'y of Wisconsin. 

This work of building a college here in once far-off Nebraska ; 
Midway 'twixt ocean and ocean, sister of northland and south- 
land, 
Heart of the continent, highway of nations, leaf of God's record 
V/ritten on rock and savannah; vast is her royal dominion. 
Rich in its corn and its cattle, great in its promise of manhood. 
Here is the need of upbuilding; here is the home of our college. 

Honor the givers of money, and givers of life and of labor. 

Heads have grown gray in this service; trial struck hard at our 
courage. 

Patience ! He reigneth whose will we are doing, on whom we 
are building. 

Patience ! Each prayer, like the blossom of springtime, shall bear 
its rich fruitage. 

Patience ! There dawneth that day of the f utiu'e when right- 
eousness ruleth. 

Look to that future, thou son of the college, and tell ivhat thou 
see-'it. 

The better days are yet to come, 

The happier years before us lie, 
When mouth of cannon shall be dumb 

Nor fires of war make red the sky. 

Yet shall not manly conflict cease; 

The brave shall climb the mountain's hight. 
Shall see a circling world at peace; 

Or, hid from anxious watchers' sight. 
Look where the avalanche may go; 

Of crushing landslide warning give; 
Learn whence endangering torrents flow; 

Bid threatened homes in safety live. 

Then shall the realms of endless snow 

Their secrets of the ages yield. 
Men shall the ocean's wonders know ; 

Confront the storm, and cities shield 
From feared tornadoes' awful blow; 

Perhaps shall learn whence earthquake shock 
Impends, and where the lavas flow 

Shall guide fierce streams of molten rock. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 57 

The tiger of the jungle deep, 

The monster of Nile's reddened flood, 
The dreaded boa, roused from sleep, 

Shall feast no more on human blood. 

For nobler chivalry to come 

Whose manlier knights shall take the field 
Yet speak no boast nor sound war's drum. 

Far mightier weapons then shall wield 
Than sword or lance of ancient rhyme. 

The strength of what they overcame 
Men deemed their own in savage time. 

So torrents' might and lightning's flame, 
The billows' roar and winds' wild thrust. 

Ice mountains of Atlantic's main. 
The wasting heats that turn to dust 

Sahara's parched and pathless plain, 
The moving of earth's hidden fire. 

The drifting of the winter snows, 
The northern light ascending higher 

As night's still shadow deeper grows : — 

All these, and forces yet unknown 

Shall gird this knighthood with their power. 
Yet first shall men, to wisdom grown, 

Count neither might nor learning's dower 
But that high troth that scorns a lie, — 

Man's rich and full integrity, 
The honest purpose, single eye. 

That finds its light in verity ! 

O heroes of those happier years ! 

O warriors of those better days 1 
Your battles won shall bring no tears, 

Your deeds unstained shall earn just praise. 

Train thou, our college, men like these 

Impart to them such high estate ; 
Abhor deceits, shun dead' ning ease, 

In noblest striving be thou great 1 



58 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

We cease from song. There come inquiring words : 

What promise is there that thou shalt endure? 

What words of praise, our college, hast thou earned? 

Should sons or daughters speak them? Make these true, 

Be this thy promise and thy highest praise : 

If God hath need of men, then He hath need of thee I 



•»-^>S^%0»^Mf^ 



The Exile of '48. 

Son of my son, I hoped to see 
A Germany united, free. 

"A far-off dream of youth?" I know 
My steps are feebler now and slow. 

But hot within the blood still burns. 
And kings and priests my anger spurns ! 

We students felt oiir souls aflame 
And, rallying in the people's name. 

Would blend in one the German folk 
And free them from the despot's yoke. 

We knew what Cromwell bold had done ; 
We knew the deeds of Washington. 

We knew — ' 'A race of thinkers" we. 
So said the world. "Now doers be," 

We cried to German youthful blood. 
And courage rose like mountain flood. 

But drouth of rock and cold prevailed, 
And torrents' dash and foaming failed. 

And we, escaping from the strife, 
Must flee to save our forfeit life. 

The man of blood and iron spoke. 

And Germans shook the Hapsburg yoke. 



The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 59 

But thrust their kin of Austrian name 
From German rights and German fame. 

Divided still, and none yet free ! 
We paid the price of liberty 

For rule by Hohenzollern sword 
And will of warlike overlord. 

If wisdom come with later years, 

With want of hope and deadened fears, — 

But hate the lie ! It comes not so ; 

It dwells with generous manhood's glow. 

And wiser is the impetuous youth 
Who dares to fight for right and truth 

Than he who says : ' 'It's wrong, I know. 
But then it hath been always so, 

And so forever must abide. " 

(A speech of shame; thou coward, hide!) 

Let growth in wisdom vift with years 
With hope renewed and vanquished fears, 

With deadened hate, and deepening love, — 
Good will toward all, below, above. 

The hated priest is brother man ; 

-The king hath place in some great plan. 

I doubted long : said "God or fate." 
But faith returns ; not yet too late. 

And childhood's prayer again is mine. 
With deeper meaning, more divine. 

I love this land that made me free ; 
Yea, love I God who loveth me. 

And from some bright and happy place, — 
Made bright by radiance from his face, — 

In youth renewed I hoped to see 
My native land united, free ! 



60 The Rhymed Story of Wisconsin. 

Jit "Buffalo, 1901, September 6, 

The world's foul pest here took a treacherous shape, 
And, offering hand of friendship, struck at Life 
Revered, beloved. Hear cry of feeble wife, 

See women's tears and men's ; see cities drape 

Our flag's bright folds. Hear stroke of funeral bells 
And say, foul spirit of the anarchist, 
What hast thou wrought? Above Niagara's mist 

The sun shines on. Before the blood that tells 
The deep abomination of thy crime 

Hath lost its hue, just law asserts its reign ; 

The President survives. With strains sublime 

Of solemn song, and prayer, in mournful train. 
His native land, from this unrest of time. 

Commits unto eternity the Slain ! 



% 1 T7 ^'-"^ ^^ ^'^^^ 



